Flora's War (8 page)

‘How do you do, Mr Bilal,’ I greeted him. ‘
Salam alekum
.’

‘
Wa alekum es salam
,’ responded Mr Bilal.

He stepped aside for me to go through. I hesitated. I wasn’t sure what I would find in this out-of-the-way, back-alley place.

I stepped through the small door and I found a paradise: a paved courtyard, surrounded by buildings three storeys high. From the street, there was no suggestion that this haven of peace and calm existed. A tiled fountain played into a lily pool and potted palms and flowers lined the walls. A stone staircase led up the outside of one wall to a loggia with high arches and a latticed wooden balustrade. An open sitting room nestled behind, and I could see brass lamps on long chains suspended from its lofty ceiling.

‘There are other rooms further in,’ said Mr Khalid. ‘A bridge leads across the street to the second part of the house.’

‘What is this place?’ I said, awed. ‘It’s – it’s magic.’

‘It was once two houses,’ said Mr Khalid. ‘This section dates back to the 1600s, the other to the 1500s. They were built by two rich men, one a butcher and the other a blacksmith. Many years later the houses were owned by one person, and he built the bridge that connects them.’ He indicated a stone well at the side of the courtyard. ‘Here is the ancient well, the Well of Bats. It is said that a person will see the reflection of an absent sweetheart in the water.’

That was enough for me. I wanted to live here.

‘Can we see more?’ I asked.

‘But of course,’ said Mr Khalid.

The house was a maze of stairs and passageways, corners and crannies, recesses and rooms opening off rooms into other rooms. Mr Bilal led the way, guiding us up and down, backwards and forwards.

From the arched loggia we looked down into the courtyard. Another flight of stairs up and we stood on the roof, on a terrace shaded by latticed wood with a view over a mosque and then over the rooftops of Cairo and its minarets, domes and towers.

We descended a different flight of stairs and crossed over the enclosed bridge linking the houses, passing bedrooms, studies and even, to my surprise and enormous pleasure, a fairly modern bathroom. Then suddenly we came to an interior balcony running around four sides of a large hall on the floor below. Parts of the balcony were screened with
mashrabiya
like the ones I’d seen in the street on the way here.

‘This was the harem of the house,’ said Mr Bilal. ‘Look.’ He opened the door of a cupboard in the wall. But it wasn’t a cupboard. It was a secret balcony, overlooking the hall, a place to hide and spy on the room below.

It was almost too much. I felt dizzy. ‘This is available to rent?’ I asked.

‘It is,’ said Mr Khalid. ‘If you like it.’

‘Like it?’ I said faintly. ‘Oh Mr Khalid, I love it!’

Mr Khalid looked at me gravely. ‘I thought you might,’ he said.

‘I want to move in right away!’ I said. Mr Khalid and Mr Bilal smiled.

‘Furniture,’ murmured Mr Khalid.

‘Staff,’ said Mr Bilal. ‘You will need a cook, a housekeeper, houseboys. My wife, Mrs Maryam, can arrange this.’

‘Perhaps two weeks,’ Mr Khalid said. Nothing happened in a hurry in Cairo.

I left them to arrange everything and went back upstairs to the roof terrace. The stone benches needed cushions, but I was sure that would all be organised. I sat down and looked out over the mysterious roofs of Cairo. A soft, cool breeze that would be cold later, rolled across from the river and a flock of white pigeons wheeled and flashed around the minarets of the mosque next door.

I looked down across the alley and noticed that in the wall opposite there was a small door, with a stone lattice above it. That must be part of this house, I thought. I wondered where the door led. There hadn’t been an entry courtyard in the house across the street. The door, besides, was small and low, not a formal entry at all. What could it lead to – another small, secret room? As soon as we moved in, I promised myself, I’d explore that mysterious door and see what lay behind it.

I wanted this house, the House of the Butcher and Blacksmith. I wanted to live here forever, and never go back to Australia. I wonder, I thought dreamily, if Fa would consider that?

…

A couple of days later Gwen and I met the picnic group in the afternoon at my hotel. Gwen and I were a novelty: girls who had visited Cairo many times before, lived here, knew our way about, and even spoke a little Arabic.

‘Flora knows everything about the pyramids and can guide us through one,’ Lydia immediately announced to the Australian nurses and young officers.

I laughed and said, ‘I certainly don’t know everything, but I can arrange a guide to take us into a pyramid. But is anyone nervous of being in small spaces?’ I glanced around the group. ‘We’ll have to bend very well over for quite a long time along narrow passages.’

‘I think I’ll stay outside,’ Emily said faintly. ‘I’m not fond of cramped places.’

‘I’ll stay with you,’ quickly offered an officer we’d been introduced to as Lieutenant Joseph Callendar. Hmmm. I was sure he wasn’t at all nervous about small spaces. I suspected he was keen on spending one-on-one time with Emily.

It was only a short distance and we could easily have walked, but riding donkeys was very popular with the nurses and officers. I knew we’d be covered with eau de donkey, but shrugged and went along with the group. Once at the pyramids of Giza, I gave a brief history of their construction about three-and-a-half thousand years ago over an eighty-year period for a father, son and grandson: the Pharaohs Cheops, Chephren and Mycerinus.

I kept it brief. I knew my audience. I saw they were eager to get inside the Great Pyramid.

‘Right, we have to climb up there.’ I pointed out the small entrance. ‘It’s about fifty feet above the ground. When we get there, boots off.’

‘Why can’t we wear our boots?’ a blonde nurse asked.

‘The stone inside is polished,’ I explained. ‘It’s very slippery. You’ll slide and fall if you leave your boots on.’

‘I hope I haven’t got a hole in my socks,’ an officer said, and everyone laughed.

‘I’m not anxious to see inside a pyramid again,’ Gwen said. ‘I’ll stay outside as well.’ Emily and Lieutenant Callendar looked rather disappointed.

I beckoned to a guide waiting for hire. He eagerly accepted the coins I handed him and led us scrambling up the tall, rough stones to the entrance.

‘Can you climb right to the top?’ one of the officers asked, leaning back to stare above us.

‘You’d need a guide. Some of the stones are taller than your head and it’s quite dangerous,’ I warned him. ‘It’s also a very strenuous climb, I’ve done it myself.’

‘You’ve climbed it?’ he said. ‘If a girl can do it, it can’t be too hard. I think I’ll give it a try.’

Not too hard if a girl can do it? He didn’t see my glare; he was still staring up at the top of the pyramid.

‘Oh come on, Lewis,’ one of the officers urged him. ‘We want to go inside the pyramid.’

‘No, I think I’ll do the climb to the top,’ Lewis said. He grinned at me challengingly. ‘Maybe Flora would like to guide me?’

That did it. ‘I’ll get an Egyptian guide if you really want to go,’ I said coolly. ‘And I’ll certainly come with you, if you like.’

There was a chorus of disapproval from the nurses and officers.

‘Let it go, Lewis.’

‘It’s not a competition you know, old man.’

‘Are you sure?’ Gwen murmured to me.

‘He’s not getting away with saying girls can’t do things,’ I hissed at her.

I turned to the group. ‘Do you mind waiting?’ I asked. ‘It won’t take long. Not if Lewis can keep up.’

I beckoned to an Egyptian guide and gave him some instructions.

‘What did you say to him?’ Lydia asked curiously.

‘I asked him to guide us to the top,’ I said. I glanced at Lewis. ‘I told him to take care of Lieutenant Canning, because he’s never done this before.’

Lewis grunted.

With the guide leading the way, we started out. I hadn’t been exaggerating; it was a hard climb. I ascended carefully, placing my feet where the guide said. Lewis kept up determinedly.

We climbed and climbed. I was careful not to look down, concentrating on placing my hands and feet exactly where the guide indicated, Lewis right beside me. As we neared the top, the guide nodded to me. I moved to the side of the block of stone he pointed out and disappeared behind it. A few more steps upwards and I reached the top.

I was sitting on the top, admiring the view, when Lewis appeared. ‘Why hello, Lewis,’ I said. ‘What delayed you?’

‘That guide –’ he panted. ‘He took you a different way!’

‘Did he?’ I said innocently. ‘I didn’t notice. Isn’t the view quite splendid?’

Lewis gave me a dark look.

‘Will you go down now?’ the guide said in Arabic.

‘Quite ready, Lewis?’ I asked. I got to my feet. ‘By the way,’ I said, ‘do take care on the way down. Every year two or three tourists die falling off the pyramids.’

The nurses and officers, perched on the stones of the pyramid, welcomed us back enthusiastically.

‘Well done, Flora!’

‘Not as easy as all that, eh, Lewis?’

‘Just what
did
you say to the guide?’ Gwen whispered to me.

I grinned at her. ‘I told him I’d pay him double if he made sure I reached the top
first
.’

Boots off, we gathered around the low entrance to the pyramid. ‘Bend over,’ I told them. ‘Heads well down. The passage goes down first, then up, and it’s only about four feet tall and three feet wide.’

Bent over and heads tucked in, we shuffled down the sharply descending passage. Our guide led the way with a dim torch. Hands on either side of the passage, I stumbled along, sucking in moist, stuffy air. Occasionally people coming out of the pyramid met us, and we pressed ourselves against the sides of the passage to allow them by.

The passage began to tilt upwards and continued low and narrow for a short way. It abruptly opened up into the Grand Gallery and we could stand up and stretch.

‘That’s better!’ said Lydia. Her voice echoed. She looked up. ‘It feels … strange,’ she said, ‘with all that great weight of stone above us.’

It was just the way I felt inside the pyramids. I was always happier when I was outside again. ‘We go up now,’ I said. ‘The king’s chamber is at the top of the gallery.’

‘Imagine!’ breathed one of the nurses. ‘The king’s chamber!’

But when we were standing in the king’s chamber they were, as I’d expected, unimpressed. It was a small room, right in the middle of the massive stone structure, fifteen feet by thirty feet, and nothing in it but an empty stone sarcophagus.

‘Where’s the gold? Where’s the treasure?’ demanded one of the officers, not quite jokingly.

I laughed. ‘In the museum,’ I said. ‘Haven’t you been there?’

He shook his head. ‘I can’t say I’m very keen on museums,’ he said. ‘Old Jim is, though. He’s always there.’

‘You have a friend who’s interested in ancient history? Then he might like to see my father’s excavation,’ I said.

‘A real excavation?’ exclaimed Lydia. ‘We’d all like to see that, wouldn’t we?’

Everyone agreed, whether through politeness or genuine interest I wasn’t sure. But if they wanted to see it, I was sure Fa wouldn’t mind.

‘I’ll arrange it when I can,’ I said. ‘Now, are we ready to go out? Remember, once we’re out of the Grand Gallery, heads down and elbows in.’

We all made it out without cracking our heads on the low roof and rejoined Gwen, Emily and Lieutenant Callendar. The sun was setting as we found a spot near the Sphinx for our picnic.

‘When it’s dark,’ I said, ‘do you want to see the Sphinx smile?’

‘
What!
Really smile?’

It was a trick performed by the Egyptians to amuse tourists. When the sun had set, I beckoned a guide over and spoke to him, handing over a few coins. He climbed nimbly up under the Sphinx’s head, produced some matches and lit a small object he’d taken from his pocket. In seconds a bright white flame burned, throwing a shadow upwards under the Sphinx’s head. The Sphinx did, indeed, seem to smile in the wavering light. The group gave the man a round of applause – and more coins.

‘He burnt a piece of magnesium wire,’ I explained when they asked. ‘The shadow it throws gives the illusion of a smile.’

Gwen and I were a total success with the officers and nurses. We were invited on more picnics, camel rides and outings than we would be able to manage. A few days later, we went with some nurses to Luna Park and screamed with them as we rode the rollercoaster and scurried through the skeleton house. The following week we took an evening felucca ride on the Nile. In the evenings we danced at Shepheard’s, and at my own hotel. Gwen and I watched, fascinated, as nurses and officers formed friendships, flirted and fell in – and out – of love.

We flirted with more than a few of the young officers ourselves. ‘After all,’ said Gwen, ‘a girl needs to practise.’

Frank joined in some of our social activities when he had free time. ‘Just be careful,’ he said after watching us chatting with some officers. ‘It’s all a bit of fun, but these fellows know they could be going off to fight before long, and some of them mightn’t come back. Some of them could be thinking that this is their last chance to have a good time. Everything’s a bit … accelerated.’

Gwen and I nodded knowingly. Frank was being elder-brotherly again.

‘There’ve been a couple of engagements between people who’ve only known each other a short time,’ Frank went on. ‘You don’t want to be letting these boys expect too much.’

‘Oh come on, Frank!’ said Gwen. ‘You’ve been doing some serious flirting with the nurses yourself. I could mention Sarah Turnbull? You haven’t got a leg to stand on!’

Frank grinned. ‘Guilty,’ he said. ‘That Sarah’s quite a girl, isn’t she?’

I thought about Frank’s advice. ‘You’re right,’ I said to him. ‘So how about you make a list for us? It’s all right to dance, yes?’ I ticked an imaginary list off on my fingers. ‘A walk along the terrace is acceptable? But not holding hands at the same time? And no terrace walk if there’s no lamp at the end? A moonlight picnic at the Sphinx, quite all right, I suppose? But only in a group, naturally. Now here’s a difficulty. Christmas is coming, Frank. Is a kiss under the mistletoe seen as innocent fun? Or must it be refused with an outraged glare?’ I looked at him solemnly. ‘We know you’ll advise us correctly, Frank.’